


It's You, It's Always Been You

by Brihna



Series: Brihna's Prompt-fills: 00Q [12]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 00Q - Freeform, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Prompt Fill, Q Whump, T rating to be safe though, Tumblr Prompt, because I am the worst, bond may be suffering from FEELINGS, dialogue prompt, that tag is probably not even necessary, very vague references to torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 01:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11956608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brihna/pseuds/Brihna
Summary: You never know what you've got until it's gone.





	It's You, It's Always Been You

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to tomhardyschef for the prompt!

Bond’s welcome back to MI6 had been… less warm than he’d been expecting.

In the end, Madeleine had been right. The job was who he was. They’d given it a good try, but after six months they both knew it wasn’t working and had split amiably. He tailed her for another month or so though, just to make sure no one was following her. The last he knew now, she had started work at a small clinic in the south of France and she was happy.

Apparently, those months following Bond’s absence had been chaotic to say the least around MI6; specifically, the double-o section. There had been lots of fires to put out, and they were _still_ working to wipe out the finally lingering remnants of SPECTRE. No one said it, but he knew that no one in the department had appreciated him walking away when he did. He had been a key player in SPECTRE’s downfall. They would’ve liked him to stick around and help clean up the mess.

It had been 4 months since Bond’s returned to the fold, and things had finally settled back into a rhythm. He ran his missions, losing plenty of Q-Branch tech along the way; came home, falling into bed with the first warm body he could charm most of the time; did his report, and haunted the halls of MI6 until he could be sent out again. Rinse. Repeat.

M’s prickly demeanor hadn’t changed, he still went out for a pint with Tanner whenever the man looked sorely in need of it, and he was back to baiting Moneypenny at every turn just to see how far he could push her. The only person things had not returned to normal with… was Q.

It wasn’t that Q was overtly cold towards him, like others had been on his return. The Quartermaster was ever the consummate professional. But that was all he ever was with Bond these days. Professional. When he kitted him out for a mission, it was very transactional- if he didn’t just delegate the task to R, that is. There was no banter over the comms, no colorful reprimands over missing tech. He could show up with nothing left but a bit of wire from his earpiece, and the most he would get was, “Do try to be more careful with your equipment, 007,” in the weary tone he had come to expect from his Quartermaster. Whatever sense of camaraderie- or, dare he say, _friendship_ \- he had had with Q was gone. And it was eating him alive.

He tried to get Q to warm up to him again. He tried plying him with exotic teas and various trinkets from his travels; “Thank you, Bond that’s very kind.” He worked harder than ever to bring back his equipment; “I’m impressed, 007. There aren’t any scorch marks this time.” He tried to provoke him with the gentle ribbing that had gotten such excellent results in the past, but nothing worked. Nothing changed. Q was as immoveable as a mountain.

Moneypenny was no help. Whenever he broached the subject, she would give him that knowing look of hers, but would offer nothing. It was driving him mad. And he still didn’t understand _why_.

Then, Q disappeared.

Bond was in Madrid when he got the call. Q hadn’t made it in to work that day. And upon checking CCTV and Q’s home security logs, he’d never made it home the night before either. James was on the next flight to London.

Days passed and they had nothing to go on. There was no contact. No demand for ransom. No terrorist organization boasting of a kill. And, wherever he was, something was blocking the signal, preventing them from tracking him through the Smart Blood.

After barely a week, they were already being told to call off the search. Q was either dead or had defected. They needed to focus on countermeasures if it turned out to be the latter. And since the fallout of the failed merger, resources in the double-o section had become fairly limited. M’s hands were tied. There was nothing more they could do.

Bond refused to let it lie.

The moment Six called off the search, he went off the grid. And with Moneypenny’s help, he put feelers out to every contact he had. He had R running facial recognition and monitoring internet traffic as well, though they all knew she would lose her job if anyone found out.

After three days, R’s program got a hit, and James was on his way to Vienna; where one of the final branches of SPECTRE was still hanging by a thread.

Once Bond found the location where Q was being held, he fell upon them like a hurricane, leaving nothing but chaos and destruction in his wake. By the time the local authorities arrived, along with a chopper from Six, there was no one left alive except James and Q.

He had been badly beaten, and there were many shallow cuts covering his frame, but Q was still breathing. And James would never forget the look in his eyes when they first opened to him. Those hazel green eyes had seemed so dull and lifeless and full of pain. But once they’d focused on his face, he could see recognition in his eyes and a single tear slipped free as James held tightly to his hand. Then Q had blacked out.

* * *

For days in medical, James never left his side. What meals he took were the ones forced on him by Moneypenny or various medical staff- who had long since given up on keeping Bond from the room. Occasionally, he would use the showers down in medical and change into another set of MI6 issued track pants and t-shirt; but he was never absent for more than 10 minutes at a time. He didn’t get much sleep sitting up in those hard plastic chairs, but nevertheless, he stayed.

James woke from a doze one afternoon with the distinct feeling that he was being watched. And when he opened his eyes, he found Q staring back at him. He looked so much younger without his glasses.

“You came back,” said Q, his voice hoarse from disuse.

James moved closer to the bed. “I did.”

There was a deep furrow in the younger man’s brow as hazel green eyes searched his face. “They’d stopped looking,” he said, tone matter-of-fact. “They knew I was as good as dead.” He frowned. “What made you come for me?”

Something tightened painfully in his chest at the resignation showing in his eyes. He knew too well what it felt like to be left for dead. He leaned in closer, gently taking hold of his hand. “You’d have done the same for me,” he answered with a shrug. “Have done. I wasn’t going to leave you, Q.”

“But, you did leave,” he said softly; and James knew they weren’t talking about the kidnapping anymore. “Why did you come back?”

And, suddenly, the pieces finally clicked into place. He thought back to his time with Madeleine. He’d thought it was simply the that job he’d missed. The realization that a blunt instrument like himself could never truly walk away from this life. But looking back, all the times he’d reminisced, all the times he’d thought of home, it was Q. He always thought of Q. And that’s why the past few months had been so hard. Without Q, without returning to whatever it was they’d had before, he never truly felt like he’d come home.

He squeezed his hand. “It’s you,” he said, summing up the thoughts and memories swirling through his head. “It’s always been you. I was just too blind to see it.”

Something flickered behind Q’s eyes, but he simply shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“You know my history, Q,” said James. “You know I don’t trust anyone. And I almost always work alone. But from the moment I met you, I felt something I hadn’t felt in years. And then Skyfall.” He shook his head. “You put everything on the line for me. And have done ever since. And I just took it for granted that you would always be there.”

Q remained silent, though he retained the firm grip on his hand.

“I’ve missed you, Q,” he went on. “I was just afraid to recognize that that’s what it was. And then, I almost lost you. And I was prepared to burn down the world if it meant bringing you home.”

Q’s eyes were shining as he searched his face. “What are you saying?”

James lifted his hand, lacing their fingers together and holding it between his own. “I’m saying that I love you, Q. And I’ll be damned if I ever make the same mistakes again.”

For a moment, James wondered if he had pushed too far. But then he was kissing Q and Q was kissing back and even though it was all teeth and chapped lips and stale breath, he could feel the desperate need radiating from them both.

When they finally parted, there was an impish glint in Q’s eyes that he hadn’t seen for an age. “Well,” he said. “I do hope you realize that you’re buying me dinner after all of this.”

James’ smile was more genuine than it had been in years. “Done.” And he leaned in to capture his lips once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave your thoughts in the comments!
> 
> If you'd like to leave a prompt, see this post: http://ao3-brihna.tumblr.com/post/164800133361/prompts-are-officially-open-hello-my-lovelies :)


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